Wicked Magic (7 Wicked Tales Featuring Witches, Demons, Vampires, Fae, and More)

by Deanna Chase

  “This is the hole? And you expect me to swim in that?” She gave him a good-luck-with-that smirk.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I expect you to swim in that, wuss. Besides, I don’t think it’s got a Loch Ness monster lurking in there.”

  “You don’t think?”

  Abel flung his arm over her shoulder, guiding her down the hill. “I know, okay? Mom’s got a friend who works the quarry—there’s not even fish swimming in that thing.”

  “Hmm.” Flint still wasn’t too sure, but she also didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t swim. She’d wait to see what everyone else did when they got there.

  Once they got to the bottom, he guided her over to a large cooler nestled in the grass, popped the lid and handed her a beer.

  “Beer, Abel? Don’t you have anything other than that?”

  “Girl Scout,” he mumbled, chuckling low.

  She bristled as he dug around for something else. Not that she hadn’t gotten smashed in her life, she had, but Flint had seen something most kids probably hadn’t and that was a dad so wasted he’d pissed himself almost every night an entire year straight.

  Drinking wasn’t as much fun when you got to see the other side of it while stone sober. She snatched the water bottle out of his hand and refused to say thanks.

  “Anyway”—he popped the top of his beer and took a huge draught of it before finishing his thought—“how was the first week of school?”

  “It sucked.” She twisted the cap on her bottle, glanced at the water, then screwed the cap back on. She really wasn’t thirsty.

  Abel kicked off his flip-flops and sat on the grass, crossing his ankles. The humidity of earlier had faded, the night was pleasantly warm. Flint dropped down next to him, crisscrossing her legs.

  “You hear ’bout that father-daughter/mother-son dance next week at the rec center?” He burped, glanced at his bottle, and curled his nose, a quick grimace that let her know he hadn’t really developed a taste for the stuff yet.

  “Yeah. I’m not telling my dad. Does anyone even go to those things really?” Then it dawned on her that she might have insulted him. “Umm… I mean. Are you taking your mom? If so, that’s cool.”

  Abel rolled his lips. “Even if I wanted to, which not in a million years, she’d never come. Mom’s…” He looked at her and shrugged. “She’s yeah… whatever.”

  “Whatever?” She wrinkled her nose. “Does she work in the circus too?” Flint mentally rewound all the people she’d glimpsed tonight and none remotely resembled either Cain or Abel.

  Abel scratched at the paper wrapping on his glass bottle. His jaw was clenched tight, and in that moment it was uncanny how much he reminded her of Cain. A solid eighty pounds lighter, but the resemblance was definitely in that scowl. Then his thick brown brows smoothed out.

  “My mom’s completely disfigured, Flint.”

  Oh, she’d stepped into that one. That awkward moment when she asked a totally random and innocent question, only to find out the answer went so much deeper than she’d wanted to go. “I’m so—”

  “Sorry?” he supplied with a grim set of his lips. “Don’t be. Happened a long time ago.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  He sounded glum, and she so didn’t want to poke old wounds. Tonight was supposed to be about fun, about forgetting everything and just being young. But she couldn’t help but wonder as other kids from the show started trickling in how Abel’s mom was disfigured and what could have done it.

  Finally she spotted Janet and, with a sigh of relief, hopped to her feet. “Janet’s here.”

  Abel plunked his less-than-half-drank beer down. “So’s Rhiannon.” He pointed at the petite blonde walking beside a waving Janet.

  Both girls were still wearing their cheetah-spot tights and tutus.

  But unlike Flint, the moment they got to the water’s edge, they rolled down their stockings, unhooked their tutus, and stepped out in matching black bikinis.

  “Lovely,” Flint drawled. “You knew too?”

  Rhiannon laughed, eyeing Flint’s blue-jean shorts. “That’s gonna suck to swim in.”

  Then, taking a running dive, she slipped easily into the water. Janet followed close on her heels. Abel dragged his shirt off, finger-waved at Flint, and cannonballed in, getting Flint completely soaked.

  He popped out of the water a second later and flicked water at her. “Get in—you’re not getting any younger.”

  And since pretty much everyone had jumped in, there didn’t seem a point in staying out. Flint took off her top. Yes, it was a bra she had on, but thankfully she’d worn her hunter-green one, which meant it pretty much looked like a bikini top anyway. But the shorts were definitely not coming off.

  Swimming in denim was going to suck as Rhiannon had put it so nicely, which meant Abel was totally gonna pay. Flint cannonballed in, shocked immediately by the sharpness of the cold water that seemed to cut straight through her bones.

  Shivering, she popped to the surface and growled. “It’s cold!”

  Abel snorted and Janet shook her head. “Nope,” they said together. “You’re just a wimp.”

  A few more seconds and she finally felt able to breathe without clacking her teeth together. “I’ll show you wimp.”

  She dove underneath, this time prepared for the cold, and with a quick stroke reached Abel’s side. Flint latched on to his shorts and jerked them down.

  “Flint, I’ll get you!” he cried when she resurfaced, and then proceeded to chase her around for the next ten minutes.

  Thirty minutes later, Flint was done. She could barely feel her fingers anymore and wondered why no one else was shivering as violently as she was. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and nodded to the bank.

  “I’m getting out. Too cold.”

  Janet floated on her back next to her, gently swishing her hands in the water, not reacting except to open her eyes when a group of five rowdy guys swam close to her, splashing so hard the water landed on her face.

  “I think Rhi brought you a towel. It’ll be next to the ATVs. Look for the one with Hawaii printed on it.” Then she dipped under the water and disappeared.

  Abel was splashing around with Rhiannon and a few other kids Flint recognized from the procession earlier. Arms shaking with cold, she hoisted herself out of the water and sat for a moment, body so numb she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk straight right now.

  But the brush of air that’d felt so warm and inviting earlier was now making her skin crawl with ice. The denim was definitely not helping; the second she stood, she wanted to strip it off. And might have if Abel hadn’t shot her a knowing look just then.

  Hissing at him, she turned on her heel and walked back up to the parked ATVs. It wasn’t far, but it might as well have been—stones kept gouging her feet as the cold continued to beat through her body.

  Thankfully, she found the stack of towels and tossed them aside until she found Hawaii. With an audible sigh, she wrapped it around her body. She really wanted to go home now.

  She and cold did not mix.

  Flint plopped down, wrapping the beach towel completely around herself, huddling underneath it for whatever warmth she could. She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there when she suddenly became aware of the sensation of being watched.

  It started out with a prickle in the back of her neck. She rubbed the spot and frowned, beginning to freak at the thought of someone spying on her.

  Glancing over her shoulder, heart pounding so hard she heard it echo in her ears, she scanned the darkness. At first she couldn’t see anything, but she knew there was something there. A second later, she saw glowing red eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” The gruff voice shattered her silence and with a scream, Flint jumped to her feet and raked her nails down the face of the voice, not knowing until a second later that the face belonged to Cain.

  Twin welts ran the length of his cheek, beads of blood welling at the bottom.

  “You scared me
!” She grabbed her chest, only just realizing she’d lost the towel.

  The look he sent her had nothing to do with the scratches and everything to do with what he was looking at. Namely her breasts.

  “You’re wearing a bra.”

  It wasn’t a question, more an accusation, and she bristled, shoving wet, flopping strands of hair out of her eyes. His sneer and complete disregard for the scratches she’d clawed down his face made her furious. Flint clenched her fists, wishing she’d drawn more blood. She wanted to bend down and pick up the towel but felt somehow that doing so would be like telling him he’d won. So she held her head high.

  “I haven’t seen you in days, and that’s what you say to me? A hello might be nice.”

  Cain stepped in close, and it was then that she noticed the large rip in the sleeve of his shirt. And he smelled good. Like really good. A deep, musky scent of pine and something spicy and woodsy. Wishing she could pinch her nose shut, she glowered back at him.

  “Aww, did you miss me?” His lip curled up and her stupid heart did that stupid pitter-patter thing again and she really wanted to punch him. Like lay him flat and then kick him in the junk for good measure.

  “Get over yourself, loser.” She’d started to turn when he grabbed her elbow and her entire body literally seemed to burn from the contact—it snapped and sparked like a flame coming to life. Confused and slightly breathless, she shook him off.

  “You need to go home,” he growled, and her spine went stiff because he was so close, his heat hugging her from behind, his warm breath whispering in her ear, smelling of mint.

  “You know.” She twirled on her heel, pinning him with a hard glare, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t moved back a step, every cell in her body traitorously aware of him. “Funny, because I was just thinking to myself how very badly I wanted to go home, except I don’t have a ride.”

  He glanced at her feet. And she was pretty sure she’d seen a flash of humor skate across his full lower lip before it again became that perpetual frown she associated with him. “Then walk, princess.”

  Glaring, furious, she counted slowly to ten, refusing to give him the satisfaction of yelling again. “Fine.”

  She had zero clue how to get home from here. Riding behind Abel, she hadn’t exactly been paying attention. Flint stomped back down to the quarry, searching for her shoes and shirt. Her breathing was hard and her body shaking, but not from the cold, rather from a fury so bone deep she seriously wanted to hurt something.

  Namely something that started with a C and ended with an n.

  Abel called her name, waving at her to come back. Flint shook her head and mimed that she was sleepy. She was so angry by this point she was pretty sure talking right now would be explosive. She slipped her sandals on, yanked her shirt over her head, and marched back up, refusing to even look at Cain as she passed him.

  She felt his look, that same hard look that’d pressed in on her earlier. Flint made it about a hundred yards out of the quarry, each step making her blood boil hotter, before she was jerked to a stop.

  He’d yanked her arm. Again.

  “What!” she snapped.

  “Shouldn’t walk out here all by yourself, princess.”

  “Screw you, Cain. This princess can take care of herself.”

  His brows rose and those lips she hated so much—only because she couldn’t stop obsessing about them—curved up into a grin that was like a kick in the gut. If he would only just look pretty and not say a word. Ever. Then they could probably get along.

  A twinge of fire set up residence in the back of her skull, hammering away. She’d have a major headache by the end of the night.

  “Princess, I seriously doubt that.”

  Flint narrowed her eyes, fed up with his princess crap. “For the record, the name’s Flint DeLuca. Use it. And secondly”—she unhooked her elbow from his hand—“take a Valium. You told me to walk, I’m walking.”

  “Do you always do whatever anybody tells you?”

  He was smirking again, that cocky, self-righteous…. Delicious… She hated him.

  “You are such a jerk.”

  “My car’s back this way.” He jerked his head. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’d really rather walk.”

  He lifted a brow. “Not gonna happen.” He grabbed her arm again and she jerked.

  “Stop grabbing me,” she snarled.

  “Follow and I won’t grab, make a run for it and I’ll fling you over my shoulder.”

  She huffed and then sputtered, “You’re… that’s…. I…”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Pig!”

  He snorted and then walked to his car. She debated whether to make a run for it, but in the end decided she didn’t want to test his threat.

  His grin was rakish as he looked back at her. “And, princess, you might want to take that shirt off and sit on it—don’t want my seat stained.”

  “I hate you.”

  His laugh was the only thing she heard.

  Chapter Ten

  Cain slammed his car door with a world-weary sigh and leaned against the hood for a second. The sky was that hazy color of lavender right before dawn—he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. After dropping Flint off, he’d scouted downtown, looking for more hive, but hadn’t found any. He’d gone back again tonight, and again, nothing. Like the hive had disappeared. Which he knew wasn’t true because the maggots were still infecting the school.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. The adrenaline that hummed constantly through his veins was now nothing but a whimper. And the entire time he should have been focusing on finding the hive, he’d been thinking about Flint.

  She’d been in a green bra. And had let everyone see. He blew out a furious breath.

  On top of that, she was definitely being followed by hive. He had no doubt the note was left by hive, because the night at the quarry there’d been one of the hive there. And it’d been watching her. If he’d had more time he’d have bound the maggot and transported it back to the circus, but she was too close. She might have heard. Plus, he didn’t want it to escalate in front of her.

  Humans could never know his world.

  There’d not been a choice other than to kill it and wait for the sun to do its thing the next morning.

  “Hard night?”

  The sultry, exotic voice made him open his eyes. “You could say that.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Aunt Pandora gave him the once-over. Her raven’s-wing brow quirked. “Where have you been? Adam went ballistic tonight. Said you were supposed to muck out the stalls during the show.”

  He shrugged. “Adam can just suck it. Besides…” He settled in, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. “We both know that’s not why I’m here.”

  Pandora leaned beside him.

  In truth, she wasn’t really his aunt. Not by blood anyway. Adam and Pandora were the same species. Nephilim, demon-human hybrids, and two of a very rare group anymore. The clan liked to stick close together—strength in numbers was what she always said.

  But she’d been around as long as he could remember, and he’d never known her as anything other than his aunt.

  “Order’s been up my butt about some area in Venice.”

  His aunt was the theatrical type; she loved dressing up like an old Victorian Goth. Her dress was satin cream and buttoned all the way up her throat, reminding him of a Gothic angel.

  But he’d seen her in a killing haze once before. Nephilim were no angels. And when she was in full-on demon mode, that was the stuff of nightmares.

  “So you’re leaving? Really could use you to help me crack into the hive.”

  She nodded. “Sorry, guy. Got my marching orders tonight. Luc’s packing up our van right now.” Pandora pointed to a dark blur of shadow a few yards off.

  Luc was her off–again/on-again… something. Blond hair, lavender eyes, and mean as the devil. Cain never had liked the bastard.

>   “A word of advice, Cain.”

  He cocked his brow.

  “Don’t get too caught up with that girl.”

  “What girl?” Instantly he felt the stirrings of the beast flare to life.

  “Whoa there, cowboy.” She grinned and patted his forearm. “You know me and you know exactly why I’m urging caution here, right?”

  Cain forked his fingers through his hair.

  Peering at him with hypnotic lavender eyes, Pandora nodded. “You saw what your dad did to your mom. How that totally screwed him up. Don’t be a statistic, Cain. It never works for us. Why do you care?”

  “I’m not one of you guys. Besides”—he smirked—“I thought demons don’t have feelings.”

  She gave an unladylike snort. His aunt might look like a delicate flower, but beneath the pretty façade lurked a monster that even he feared.

  She cupped his cheek, her warm hand instantly quieting the hum in his blood. There were monsters worse than him in this world. Easy to see the pretty face and never realize she was over five thousand years old.

  “Yeah, that’s the biggest lie we tell ourselves, isn’t it?”

  He ground his jaw when she pulled away and glanced over his shoulder, holding up a finger.

  A second later he knew why when Luc’s voice cut through their conversation. “C’mon, Dora! Time is money.”

  “Shut your piehole, Luc!” she yelled back and then gave Cain a weak grin. “Boss man’s getting impatient.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He flicked his wrist and pushed off his car, making to head to his trailer and catch an hour nap before school.

  “Oh, by the way…” She grinned, and her teeth were no longer blunt, but sharp and sickle-shaped. “Left a little surprise for you in the shed.”

  He cocked his head.

  “She, at least I think that’s what it is with all its skin flapping off, is pretty pissed.”

  “You caught a drone?”

  “Caught something.”

  He grinned. “I was just gonna bag one at school this morning. Last one wasn’t in a talkative mood, had to kill—”

  Pandora hissed and grabbed his elbow, curling her fingers around until they resembled claws. “Don’t you ever do that, Cain. You follow our laws and keep it by the book. Don’t want the Order breathing down our necks—trust me. There’s something going on there, I dunno…” She twisted her lips and then sighed. “Just promise me, Cain, by the book. Kill as many hive as you need to find that queen, but keep it by the book.”